Something Wicked
by SilverMoonPhantom
Summary: Its easy to see why Ectoplasm and Grace don't mix. Fighting fair has no place during an extermination. (Supernatural x Danny Phantom Crossover)
1. (Prologue)

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them. **_

_**Also, I adore reviewers. Even if it's "This is neat." or "Bad writing/too cliche, so I stopped reading here." I appreciate the feedback. **_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Prologue

* * *

It was very rare that Danny came across the spirit of an actual dead person.

Well, that's not quite true.

The ghosts that he faced on a normal basis, the ones that openly terrorized his town came from the Ghost Zone. They were usually green, ran on ectoplasm, and generally caused havoc. Occasionally there was one who drained emotions or life force or something like that, but there was always a way to stop them.

He was used to finding a ghost, knocking it around a bit and shoving it back into the Ghost Zone. Simple enough, even though it took time and energy and usually ended up with the people around him believing him to be an irresponsible and generally lazy person. Sucks to suck.

These ghosts, though – the strange ones. They arrived directly after someone's death and looked exactly like the recently departed. There were no green flames, trailing mist or glowing green anything. Strange, but not entirely unheard of.

There was quite a bit about them that alarmed him, though.

When Danny first encountered one, it (she) was confused, a little frightened.

Logically, he knew things like this had to happen – the ghosts had to come from somewhere – but it was a different story having the aftermath of a death thrown in his face.

She had cried on the porch, blood running down her face and hands in a reflection of the wound that killed her.

Danny had heard her crying on the walk back from school, saw the blood and was halfway through taking a breath to call for help when he felt his ghost sense go off.

With unsure steps he approached her, still in his school clothes and what felt like ten pounds of books strapped to his back.

She didn't answer the first few times he spoke, though her sobbing decreased as he sat down next to her, tried to offer quiet comfort.

She was a picture of misery as she choked out how she knew that she was dead, remembered dying. It had happened so fast, the odd realization that a car had sped through a red light, was approaching her window too fast to stop. A loud sound and a sharp jolt as her head slammed sideways, but there wasn't enough time to register pain.

Danny remembered the click of a button under his palm, and a vortex of energy exploding behind his eyes, in each chamber of his heart. Fire racing through each vein and igniting the very breath in his lungs. Green.

The people inside her house descended into an argument, voices carrying through the white front door. She seemed to shrink into herself as the yelling continued, forehead on her knees. Her son and husband, she explained as she picked at the edge of her daisy-patterned blouse. They both tried to hide grief behind angry words. She spoke about her life, her hopes and dreams.

The blood on her face never dried and no matter how much she tugged at it, there was always a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve.

Danny listened to her story, ignoring the buzzing of his phone. The sun had begun to set when her small family approached the front door. He tugged the chill of his powers forward, slipping invisible and intangible before they opened it.

Pink and orange was creeping across the sky when he saw the young man, someone Danny vaguely recognized from school. A freshman, maybe. Someone he saw in the hallway between classes. He and his father stepped through the porch, their faces still red from the screaming earlier.

They talked quietly, silent for long stretches, but amiable. He looked away when they hugged. This was something private, he shouldn't be watching.

Danny turned to ask the woman a question but paused, the look on her face something between wistful and relieved. He could do nothing but sit in silence as a white light seemed to spread outward from her chest, lighting her up until it was so bright he could barely stand to look.

Between the span of a blink, she vanished, the glow winking out.

He stood, adjusted his backpack and made sure he was still cloaked by invisibility before he walked down the steps. He passed the two still talking on the walkway and started home with a head full of questions and a strange feeling of apprehension.

He couldn't sleep that night.

* * *

There was a string of odd deaths, about a month later. The local news covered it religiously, theorizing a serial killer in the area. They were all older men, slightly overweight and were all golf players. They had been brutally struck around the face and neck with a thin, blunt object. Considering the location, probably golf club.

Danny swung by the course where the deaths had happened, hovering above the small crowd of people who wanted a look at a crime scene.

He spotted a flicker of movement in a corpse of trees a few hundred feet away, a dark figure watching. No one else seemed to notice, and he took that as a sign of something not quite right.

The figure was gone by the time he reached the location, branches thick and stifling. There were white and yellow balls lost among the roots and leaves, a thin rusted pole leaning against one of the trunks.

It smelled like something rotting and Danny's stomach twisted itself into unhappy knots when he realized that the lost, grubby tennis shoe still had a foot inside.

His ghost sense shrieked at him and he dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the whistle of a club past his ear.

The attacker's face was bruised and swollen, half his skull caved in and blood misting from a broken mouth. He wore a blue uniform, Snappy's Golf Course monogramed on his breast pocket, jeans ripped at the knees. Rage glowed in his eyes as he took another swing at Danny's floating form.

He reacted on instinct, leapt backwards and swung his palms up. A green blast shot from his hands, slammed into the man's chest and punched a cantaloupe-sized hole right through it.

The ghost's movements stuttered to a halt, brown eyes wide in disbelief. Danny mirrored his expression, mouth falling open with shock.

Neon green suddenly snaked up through the man's veins, clawed up his neck and face. He shrieked and lunged at Danny with the club again, the sound full of anger and pain.

His body struck the ectoplasmic shield Danny threw up and pale green lightning started to crackle against the contact. There was an impossibly loud scream and the man seemed to tear into pieces, dissolved while drops of ectoplasm spattered the leaflitter below.

The sound still rang in his ears a few minutes later when Danny finally regained his bearings. His back was pressed against a tree, arms wrapped around his midriff and shoulders hunched tightly. There was a the murmer of voices coming closer, and a part of him realized there must have been one hell of a light show – there were cameras only a short walk away.

He slipped into invisibility, mind uncomfortably blank with an exception to the echoes of that scream and the quiet splatter of liquid.

Danny had enough sense to transform back before entering his house, barely registering his parent's location in the lab from sounds bouncing up and walked to his room.

It may have been the weekend, but he didn't get to sleep until the next day's sun began to rise.

* * *

**You showing up for movie night at sams place? -TF**

**not feeling it. -DF**

**I figured I'd ask. ttyl, man. -TF**


	2. It's in the air

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**Also, I adore reviewers. Even if it's "This is neat." or "Bad writing/too cliche, so I stopped reading here." I appreciate the feedback.**_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 1: It's in the air

* * *

The early morning sun rose over Amity Park, brushing pink and gold upon the clouds, and casting a wane light across its structures. Students were readying for school, cars already busy upon the roads.

In a park just inside the city limits, two figures stood, invisible to the human eye.

They walked together, speaking in quiet tones while polished shoes barely disturbed the dew-laden grass. They seemed like average people. One was a bit stout, with thick brown curls and equally dark brown eyes. The other was nearly a head taller, with wispy hair that showed his body's significant age.

"The energy from the gauntlet has faded significantly, and we don't even know if it's still here"

The younger sighed, scanning their surroundings. It had been a tiresome search, and trouble was brewing among their siblings.

"Keep searching. The fact that there is any energy at all bodes well."

They slipped forward, edging into the populated area of the city, easily staying out of sight.

Street lamps still arched over the road, casting yellow light on all below. The two passed under one, a twisting shadow absent from the ground.

There was a strange hum on the air, a sharp yet quiet sound that grated on their nerves. It was becoming annoying.

A gleam nestled in the shadows caught one of their eyes. Focusing on it, the taller stooped down, scooping it up from the cement.

"Hanahel, I found one of the gems."

He felt a thrum of delight through their connection, an eager renewal of the hope to finish their task. Sachiel slipped the crimson crystal into his inner pocket, careful to keep his thoughts far from wishful. A small smile creased his already wrinkled face.

Footsteps distracted them both, a pattern of noise from a nearby alley.

Silver flashed, long blades sliding out from their jacket sleeves in unison.

Hanahel shot his brother a look, slipping around the corner first, tension heavy in the air.

"Spirit, fear not."

Sachiel relaxed. It was only a wayward spirit. They would purify it and continue their search. He turned from the alley, trusting his brother had it under control. No need to frighten the poor soul.

It had been so long since their kind had interfered on earth, at least a thousand years. It was interesting, inhabiting a vessel again and walking in this grimy place crafted by human hands. He patted his jacket pocket, memorizing the signature of the gem and spreading his senses to attempt to find another one. A frown tugged at his face at the strange fuzziness around the edges of his senses.

"I am an Angel of the Lord, and I am here to bring you to Heaven's gates."

Hanahel crouched in front of the pale girl, eyes sad as her form flickered. She was newly dead, but something had scared her enough to remain behind. He could sense no anger within her, only the heart-wrenching fear reflected in her eyes. She clasped the lace of her dress with chubby fingers, flinching away when he offered his palm.

"Take my hand, I'll guide you."

It was a reaper's job to take a soul to their final resting place, but since the path had been overturned, an Angel could set it right. He pulled his vessel's face into a gentle smile, holding out his arm further.

She squeaked, burying her face in her hands and pressing harder against the wall.

"It's alright, I wont hu-ckkk-"

His view of the world quite suddenly went haywire, pain registering on his vessel's nerves in a singing harmony.

He heard a scream, and another roaring flood of pain strung up the vessel's leg. Hanahel lashed out with his blade, trying to open his eyes against the blood dripping into them.

He sprang upward, grace scraping down his vessel and clearing away the blood and torn flesh.

Looking down, he finally got a clear look at what was attacking him. Green fur blanketed what looked like a massive wolf, red eyes and a sharp snarl making obvious what its intentions were.

The Angel lunged forward, blade shining with holy light. The canine writhed backward, but was too slow to avoid the strike. Silver metal sunk deeply into the neck and chest of the beast, lighting it up with white light until every tuft of fur seemed to glow with it.

It let out a pained cry, thrashing as the Grace began to tear apart the energy holding it together.

The young spirit shrieked again, climbing to her feet and phasing into the brick wall, fleeing for her afterlife.

Sachiel heard the commotion and slipped quickly to the alley's entrance.

He saw his brother's quick take-down of the creature, bewildered as to how it failed to register on his senses. He reached out for it with his Grace, but the buzzing in the back of his skull only grew louder.

A flicker of green caught his eye, and he raised his own blade, fear appearing for the first time in millennia.

"HANAHEL, BEHIND YOU!"

Too late.

The brown-haired Angel was bowled over, two wolves landing heavily on the soldier of Heaven and using claws and teeth against him. White light flashed brightly around the vessel, condensing back into his true form and preparing to flee.

The green claws slashed through the light like it was a physical thing, mouths clamping down on the spread wings below them.

Pain and terror rang through their bond, Sachiel's own horror growing as his brother's cries petered off.

He spread his wings, raising his blade, first reaction one of intimidation toward the beasts. They paid him no mind, emerald fangs tearing through normally immaterial feathers of his brother.

A third wolf trotted out from the other side of the alley, ears turned to what was happening. The body of their fallen comrade was ignored.

Sachiel leapt into the sky, flying high, far away from these horrible beings, to bring word to his brothers.

Already his fear and guilt was rocketing through their shared wavelength, concern and curiosity echoing back.

* * *

**Still not talking to me? -SM**

...

**You're being childish -SM**

...

**Whatever. -SM**

are you sure you want to delete? yes/no

.deleted.


	3. Glow a little Brighter

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**Also, I adore reviewers. Even if it's "This is neat." or "Bad writing/too cliche, so I stopped reading here." I appreciate the feedback.**_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 2: Glow a little Brighter

* * *

The cold rush of his ghost sense was familiar, an unwanted but expected part of his morning routine.

He suppressed the shiver and continued eating his choco-flakes, watching his parents bustle about the house. They had received a letter a few days ago, some big-wig company wanted to meet with Dad about sharing a patent.

Apparently they'd be giving him a fee for the initial agreement, as well as a percentage of sales.

Who knew that inventing a toaster that created a pattern into the bread without burning anything was such a big deal?

Danny was more than a little amused at the fact they'd been recognized for a toaster instead of, you know, the whole clean energy from an otherworldly portal in their basement thing they had going on.

They'd worked out an agreement a year ago, to hook up most of the city to the converters in the lab - It had lowered energy bills by ridiculous amounts across the entire grid. People were generally fine with accepting that, on top of the ghost hunting as payback for all the damage ghosts put on the city.

He turned away from his parents, blithely ignoring their flirting as he finished his cereal. The chill was still present in his gut, growing stronger rather quickly.

A well-worn purple bag was thrown over one shoulder, books jabbing into his kidney. There was still a good 45 minutes until his first class. Plenty of time to smash some ghosts and get to school in time. He absently rapped his knuckles against the staircase at the thought.

"Walking to school. See you later"

"Oh! Danny!"

He paused at his mother's exclamation, the cool morning air already tasting of humidity and a promise of rainfall. He closed the front door a fraction, turning to look back.

"When did you say school ended for you? Jazz said she wanted to take you on a trip somewhere after you graduate."

A grin tugged at his lips. After his sister ran off to college, she was always trying to drag him places in her free time. Something about making their time together as quality as possible. A post-graduation trip was probably to something like a job fair in Chicago or something.

"My final exams get out on June 4 - only a week and a half left!"

"Thanks honey, have a good day."

He threw a hand up, walking out the door and promptly turning back into their yard. There was a nice little shed, most frequently used to hide his transformation, and less frequently used to hide a lawn mower. It was technically supposed to be waterproof, but his parents didn't tend to trust machines they didn't make with their own hands. Thus, the eco-microwave, oven and specialized washing machine.

He huffed a breath, pulling from a place somewhere under his solar plexus, the cold/warm/electric energy sparking outward and washing over him.

Danny sent himself and his backpack into invisibility with a thought, the wind still tugging at shaggy white hair as he arced up over the city and following the odd pulsing of his ghost sense.

The skyscrapers he flew around with gentle curves, thoughts meandering toward his sister and their old debate.

He had wanted to become an astronaut for ages, but after this whole ghost thing began rolling, he really couldn't see himself doing anything else. The city needed defending. No matter how well-meaning his parents and friends were, no matter the arsenal they packed, they were still bound by gravity and physics against beings who could ignore nearly every aspect of reality. Those weren't odds he wanted them to face.

His friends tended to worry him more, nowadays.

Not to mention, every time he left the city limits, there was a strange pang in the back of his head, like he was losing something important. Always something he could shake off, but it worried him. All the hypothesis about his alter ego flying around the internet, most of them talked about how Amity Park was his obsession.

He could scoff and reason circles around why this hero thing was a choice, a logical decision based on the moral 'right' but... at the end of the day, there was something that purred in happiness when he saw another ghost causing trouble. Something aggressive and playfully vicious that wanted to fight.

Graduation was approaching. Everyone and their mother was asking what he wanted to do with his life. His grades were scraping by at 'average' and he had no registered extracurriculars to speak of, and he didn't really feel any desire to go to college (Not that he'd ever tell his parents that. They'd be heartbroken.)

Jazz insisted he should get away from Amity Park, to do something other than hunt ghosts for the rest of his life. Part of him agreed - there was so much out there! But another huge chunk kept whispering about duty and responsibility and he tried very hard to ignore the part that hissed about tearing apart the idiots that tried to hurt what was his.

Danny coughed, his ghost sense spiking unexpectedly. He blinked around the lingering pressure in his head, breathing out the thick puff of condensation pulling from his lungs.

Oh hey, a green glow in an alleyway. That's not suspicious at all.

He dove down to the entrance, setting his bag aside and flicking back into visibility.

There were two green figures, furry and rather large. They were shaking, little yips and growls audible even from yards away. He could smell something a bit different. Something like iron and ozone, pungent when ghosts were generally scentless. (well, disregarding their breath. Some of them had foul mouths.)

"Hey! The furry convention isn't for a few months."

Well, that got their attention.

They were wolves, apparently. Or something like wolves.

There was something dark covering their muzzles and forepaws, eyes glowing pure white. The one on the right opened its mouth and just wailed, ears pinned back and looking all the world like a puppy that had just been punished for something awful.

The second lunged toward him, staggering and pulling itself to all four feet unsteadily. There were sharp lines of light gleaming out from its fur. It snarled and leapt again, eating up ground and baring its teeth as it neared the black and white teen.

Danny flexed his fingers, an orb of green energy humming against his palm. He flicked his arm, the ball colliding with the Wolf's forehead and exploding outward.

He expected the ghost to be thrown backward, maybe even shrug it off and keep running. What he did not expect, was for the creature to slide to a halt, shaking like a leaf as the white lines grew brighter and spread across its entire body.

With a crack like a gunshot, it expoded into green shards and goop, white light flashing outward in a small blast.

Danny threw up a shield, squinting his eyes against the thick beams. They faded quickly, leaving a tingling in his eyes and a strange sensation on his skin, like an itchy blanket.

The other Wolf tried loping away, tail still tucked down, but its own cracks of white started spreading as well, probably set off by its partner's reaction. Another splatter of green against the far wall, and Danny lowered the shield.

There was a puddle on the ground, pale green and glowing only faintly. He assumed there had been a third wolf, that had exploded earlier. A cleam caught his eye, and he bent down to pick up some sort of long knife or short sword. Something stabby anyway. It sent a jolt up his arm and the smell of ozone increased.

He glided inward, scanning the alley in curiosity, wondering what had caused them to detonate like that. He noticed a black mark on the cement, and looked down.

Following the pattern, he found a figure at the apex, sprawled on its back and blood absolutely everywhere.

Danny felt his stomach lurch, eyes widening.

The wolves... had they actually killed someone?

He lifted off, gliding in a wide circle to see the person from another angle. It was a man, face twisted in pain, but utterly still. The black marks looked like mangled wings chalked into the concrete. There was blood, his clothes mangled where teeth and claws had ripped into them, and chunks of flesh missing.

He could see the man's_ intestines._

Swallowing against his closing throat, he dove for his backpack, shoving the blade inside and scrambling for his phone.

White gloves had already punched 9-1 before pausing. They would trace the number, and he'd be the center of attention when the police investigated.

Danny bit his lip, gnawing on it for a moment before shoving the phone back and zipping up the pocket.

With a tense stomach, he waited invisibly for a passerby before tipping over a small metal garbage can. The young man startled violently, but, as hoped, peered into the dimly lit alley. When the man gasped and reached for his pocket, the half-ghost slipped away, heading toward school with what felt like lead in his stomach.

A quick transformation back, and he walked the halls, head down.

He had never seen a ghost directly kill a human before. Sure, people had been injured, especially from collateral damaged or falling bits of buildings. The last time he'd known - really known, not just suspected that a ghost had targeted a human, was the alternate timeline with his evil other-self.

He wondered if the light show was because of that...maybe somehow killing someone made their energy unstable - or something.

Danny shoved his bag into his locker, pulling out a book and tucking it under one arm. The first bell rang, and he followed the crowd.

* * *

**911, What's your emergency?**

**I ah... I found a body... A dude, middle age, I...I'm pretty sure he's dead. He's not breathing, and there's blood everywhere. Green stuff, too.**


	4. Nothing to fear but

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**Also, I adore reviewers. Even if it's "This is neat." or "Bad writing/too cliche, so I stopped reading here." I appreciate the feedback.**_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 3: Nothing to Fear, but...

* * *

Ripples spread through heaven, lights flickering with alarm, the sky filled with the frequency of celestial beings. Worried words, plans and traded glances. Even with a civil war on the horizon, there was little to do but turn their gazes toward the center of North America. One Angel's account had had spread like wildfire, the fear and uncertainty following it.

There was something in that buzz of energy pouring from the place called Amity Park. Something that dampened their sight and dragged their wings down. How did they not see this before?

The creatures there, they were not unfamiliar.

Every angel knew of the strange Others that would fall through a rift in reality, easily crushed once the door to their world had closed behind them.

What were they? Some old god's leftover creation, a dimension that sidled up next to their own. Its very energy was aggressive, but often ignored. There was no previous threat from it.

Now, though...

The threat was unmistakable.

Silent wings scoured the globe, pinpointing two sources, two crawling infestations of the Others. The smaller was targeted first, scouted and surrounded.

Angels were warriors of God, protectors of His creation. These beings had no place on the firmament, no place in this reality. Resolve hardening, their orders were exchanged.

This was an **infestation.**

The only appropriate response was an extermination.

* * *

The only indication of danger was a few new stars in the sky, creating a wide circle around the property of one mansion in Wisconsin.

Skulker had been pursuing an oddly patterned deer through the forest, partial albinism having caught his eye. He felt something strange press down on him, through his armor, and turned back toward the oldest Half-ghost's residence.

The man had been grumbling about paperwork only an hour earlier, his distaste for human company only barely overpowering his dislike for the busy work. To the hunter's knowledge, there were no experiments going on in the man's lab.

He was barely able to make out a flash of white and gold entering the roof from above, the stillness of night only heightening his concern. Even crickets had ceased their constant thrumming for a oppressive moment.

A flash of white light beamed outward through the lower windows, just before energy ripped outward. The very bricks were torn apart, a dome of green swiftly following, rising up and lashing outward in a sickly explosion.

Skulker watched, speechless, as a blast expanded horizontally, a shock-wave tearing down trees and flattening the landscape. It was a recognizable form, the green explosion. Ectoplasm-based, and if the size was anything to go by, it was related to the Portal that man had in his basement.

Even through the self-preserving intangibility and an automatic ecto-shield, he felt heat and energy from the wave passing through him, uncomfortable.

Sound hit him shortly afterward, a heart stopping crack-sizzle that would have destroyed any human's ear drums.

From the ruins, three bolts of light struck upward, vanishing into the sky. His sensors detected the faint movement of stars above, pinpricks moving before twinkling out.

A fourth flash of light rose from the wreckage, pausing for a moment as if surveying the area, before following its predecessors.

He had zoomed in his ocular enhancements, able to snapshot a bright silhouette of wings before it disappeared.

His scans could not detect signs of life, or the cold-spot of a fellow ghost, but he dared not approach the location.

A few beams of wood fell, sending another cloud of dust into the air from the destroyed house. Disbelief swirled up through his vague grasp of human emotions, followed by a muted sense of 'unfair'. There was no warning, no great battle. Just a there-and-gone flash of light, and suddenly the oldest Halfa was gone.

Fear jolted through his body, for once feeling every bit as tiny as his true form.

He turned away from the wreckage, flying fast toward Illinois.

* * *

**Hello? Who is this?**

**Yes, I know him. He's a good friend of the family. **

**What do you mean he-**

**oh god**


	5. A day in the life

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**Also, I adore reviewers. Even if it's "This is neat." or "Bad writing/too cliche, so I stopped reading here." I appreciate the feedback.**_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 4: A Day in the Life

* * *

Tedious.

That was really the only thing in his brain, as the lecture droned on and on. Danny imagined that even the white-painted walls were sagging in exasperation, waiting for the clock to jump forward and ease this endless monotone.

He almost missed the days when Lancer was his main teacher. At least the man had some life, as outdated as it was. Obviously Trying Too Hard was much better than Not Even Trying.

The few notes he took had wandered off into nonsensical swirls and shaded-in circles, a small doodle in the corner depicting a rather overly tall Joan of Arc stabbing Napoleon through with a spear. For some reason, they both had mustaches and top hats.

Danny sighed, feeling the muscles in the back of his neck stretch a bit as he hung his head, bangs brushing the desk.

Once the adrenalin spike from his ghost sense had faded, a bone-deep weariness had set in. He felt it more often these days, as his ability to separate his two lives began to wear at the seams.

It wasn't like he could fight crime at night, and attend school and everything would be fine.

There were actual repercussions, now.

Some guy getting mur-... killed by ghosts.

Property damage like woah, driving everyone's taxes up, new city legislation making the front page more often than not.

His own future plans getting sucked away like some demented black hole of dreams.

Sam getting-

He stopped there, closing his eyes and leaning back, bright lights shining red through his eyelids. Seriously, a death directly caused by a ghost. The fact that they left the body there, mangled, it didn't sit right. And then there was their actions when he found them. Their shivering, destabilized forms.

His chair suddenly jerked, and he sucked in a breath, whipping around to see Tucker's annoyed face.

The teen nodded toward the front of the room, and Danny obediently turned back around, sliding his arm down and reaching backwards, trying to act nonchalant.

A folded piece of paper dropped into his palm.

He opened it under his desk, one hand still pretending to write notes, while actually just scribbling loops and scratches in the same spot.

The paper crinkled against his thigh, familiar handwriting scrawling in bright blue ink.

"Still want to meet Tomorrow night? Yes/No"

Danny nodded his head, but absently circled the 'yes' and offered the paper back, his shoulder complaining at the odd angle. The teacher paused and squinted at him, thick glasses making her look a bit bug-eyed. The brown shirt and pants wrapping loosely like a husk of dried leaves. Grasshopper teacher?

He heard Sam's voice start a quiet whisper, but stubbornly ignored it, focusing on his notes, which had become even more indecipherable during his inattention.

Tucker was replying to her anyway, it wasn't his conversation.

The lecture had turned toward agriculture and the burning of farms during wartime.

He changed Joan's weapon into a pitchfork.

Considering it for a moment, he also added some action lines and shaded her hat a bit darker.

Yep.

Art.

The clock had finally reached the correct time, and freedom rang.

Who was he to deny its dulcet tones?

Danny had swept his notebook and pencil under his arm, and was out the door before most of the class was finished scrambling for their papers.

Doors were opening, bodies flooding into the hallway like some strange herd galloping down a canyon. There was energy in the air, people excited despite themselves.

Probably had to do with Exams being only a week away.

He yanked open his locker, shoving what he needed inside, and zipping it closed. The blade in his bag still seemed to hum shrilly, on the edges of his senses. Like one of those high tones that you could feel more than hear, but remembered being able to hear it when your ears were younger.

Some smartass had used that sound as his text tone early in the semester, and it had driven Danny nuts. Something about his healing had never let his ears become damaged enough to ignore that sound, so every time they got a message, he had tried hard not to leap out of his seat and just punch the kid in the head.

Thankfully, the sword was a bit higher than even he could perceive properly.

Danny swung the bag onto his shoulders, chewing absently on the tip of his tongue and resolutely pushing away images of the man sprawled in an alleyway.

The smell of iron in the air, a horrified face, frozen and - Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope.

Dash was bragging to his friends, something about a car. The broader boy had wizened up somewhere in Sophomore year. Still captain of the football team, and all-around beloved by the popular crowd, he tended to his own studies now, latent aggression worked off in weight lifting or after school on the field.

A police warning about criminal harassment and assault had left its mark.

Danny hitched the bag a bit higher on his back, aiming his steps toward home. There was a new piece of graffiti on the stone fence along Main Street. (more of a terrace, really. There were plants growing on top, and it kept back a hill from spilling onto the street) He paused to look at the sweep of lines and odd angles before continuing.

He wondered how people could get away with it in broad daylight. He didn't remember the neon pink lines being there this morning.

Fast hands and fast legs, he decided, imagining some anonymous hooded teen leaping over fences and bolting away from sirens with a backpack of aerosol cans weighing them down. Reality was probably less dramatic, but he liked his version.

He could see the glow of FentonWorks, and the living room light was still on. His mom was still home, or Jazz was back extra early. His opinion was revised when he saw a black car pull up on the edge of the street. The engine rumbled, like a low growl or purr of some giant beast.

Jazz was definitely not the type of person to ride around in that. It didn't look official, either. Government types tended to favor the sleek sedan, with tinted windows.

Maybe his parents were expecting friends?

Danny realized he had stopped walking, standing awkwardly in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the car.

The headlights turned off, engine silenced, and two men in dark suits stepped out.

They approached the front door (Holy cow they were tall) and started talking to his mother. He couldn't hear anything, but she seemed to be pleased to see them. One of them gestured to a small book.

The front door closed on their heels, and the conversation continued indoors.

Huh.

Jehovah's witnesses?

* * *

**I really can't see why you're still meeting with him. He's being a complete ass. -SM**

**_He's my best friend. Even if you guys are bitching at each other, I'm not ditching him. -TF_**

**_...Or you. -TF_**

**Thanks. -SM**

**_Is that sarcasm? -TF_**

**_….Sam? -TF_**


	6. Roll a Stealth Check

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! They're really encouraging, and keep me inspired to write more. **_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 5: Roll a Stealth Check

* * *

Danny found himself crouching under the window, trying to act nonchalant, like he was looking through his bag or something equally casual that would warrant hovering under a window.

He even unzipped the bag and stuck an arm inside. Clever disguise, right?

The voices were muffled through glass and walls, the rustle of wind overwhelming what he could hear. Something comics never mentioned was that enhanced hearing didn't necessarily mean enhanced selective hearing.

An epiphany smacked him upside the head, and he made a face, incredulous at himself. This was his own freaking house, why was he sneaking around?

He swung his backpack up, letting it settle over one shoulder, and brushed dirt from the knees of his jeans.

The door opened easily, and he could see his mom already entertaining her guests in the living room. He shuffled in, kicking off his shoes and tossing his bag onto the stairs.

Just as it thumped into place on a step, he recalled there was, in fact, a sword inside, and winced. Thankfully, there was no audible tearing sound, and he allowed himself to focus all attention on the two men inside his home.

They were seated on the couch, close enough to be comfortable in each other's space, just on the edge between professional and casual. The sharp suits probably enhanced the business-like feeling. After a quick glance-over, he was privately thankful that Jazz was away at college.

Between "Tall, green-eyed and handsome" and "Taller, shaggy and handsome" he wasn't sure if he wanted to see his sister's reaction.

(This coming from a purely observational standpoint, mind you. He never had a reason to doubt his sexuality, and even these guys weren't a tipping point)

Seeing her date average guys was weird enough. There WAS a moment of narrow-eyed inspection, as he hadn't seen that shade of green outside people who were possessed, but his ghost sense didn't even flicker.

He lifted a hand in greeting, edging around the room. His mom brightened, turned and beckoned for him to join them.

"Welcome home sweetie! How was school?"

He forced a small smile, still eyeing the two.

"It was good. Nothing new."

"Oh that's good, I wanted to introduce you to these two. We've been emailing back and forth for the past week or so - They're fellow ghost hunters, you see."

Ah. Shit.

"Ah..."

He offered them a small wave, which the smaller returned, while the taller sent a friendly smile. Really, this was confusing. They were both huge, totally unfair.

"Nice to meet you, I guess. My name's Danny."

Tall-and-Shaggy nodded his head.

"I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. Good to meet you as well. Your mother was just telling us about some of your family's inventions."

Well, that solved it. He was getting out of here as soon as possible. He didn't want_ yet another_ ghost hunting team seeing the Boomerang smacking him in the ass. Depending on oblivious people could only go so far.

Danny started sidling toward the kitchen, and Dean shot him an amused look. Something like 'It's really obvious you want to run, but I'm not stopping you'

Part of him bristled, and he bustled around the kitchen, opening cupboards and pretending to deliberate on what to eat, while one ear was turned on the living room.

"Thank you so much for stopping by, I was really excited to see your notes on the difference between soul-based and ectoplasm-based ghosts." There was a rustling of papers.

Danny crouched down behind the door of the fridge, glaring at the sausage links still trapped in the bottom drawer. He checked the lock, and they grumbled at him, glaring back. Dad was the only one who had a whet of trust for the little guys, the rest of the family having endured their tiny fangs and snake-like coils one too many times. Fire didn't seem to harm the suckers, but they started dissolving if left at room temperature for too long.

Jack had made with the puppy eyes until Maddie relented to letting them 'stay with the rest of their food buddies', under the condition that their housing remained sealed away to avoid contamination. (Thank everything holy, she was learning. No more ghost turkeys for thanksgiving!)

"We honestly haven't encountered many ectoplasm-based ghosts outside of Amity Park, we mostly deal with the type that you can fight with salt and iron….and fire" The last one seemed to be an afterthought for Dude-Sam.

Still, Danny was intrigued despite himself.

He plucked up a jar of green olives, delicately fishing one out of the brine and popping it into his mouth.

There were those… dead-people ghosts elsewhere?

He privately winced at the terminology of his brain. There were only so many terms for ghosts he could think of, and he had kinda lumped them all into the same definition: Green, glowy, probably out to harass others, occasionally not.

He wondered if Sam would be entertained by the idea of a tall, pretty dude sharing her name.

Danny filed that thought away, tightening the lid and pushing the olives back onto their shelf.

Their conversation had continued without him.

"-so the energy from filtered ectoplasm actually disrupts their own natural frequency, resulting in actual damage to the ghost, that they can't phase through."

"That's fascinating! I wonder if they'd respond to strong magnetism, or sound waves in a similar way."

"Jack and I have been trying the magnets, but it's hard to get a strong magnet close enough to a ghost to observe the results."

"You mentioned that you fight them often. Are there any we should watch out for?"

Danny sighed, pulling out the half-full jug of chocolate milk. Here comes the accusations against Phantom….

"Well, you should keep something on you to defend yourself - there are ecto-guns or purely defensive items, like the Specter-Deflector, but the self-aware ghosts rarely target individual people. It's the animalistic ones that you have to watch out for. Even they aren't much of a problem any more, with anti-ecto defenses becoming more widespread."

…

Eh?

"So Fido wants to maul, and the people-shaped ones want to move boxes?'"

Danny rolled the cap back on, shoves the jug back into place while taking a sip from his glass and peering around the corner to watch the proceedings. This was new, coming from his mother.

She gestured to something.

"I included the pamphlets about basic ghost information and safety, as well as my personal notes on the subjects."

What Pamphlets?

"Sweet! Our very own Monsters Manual."

"Thanks a ton. Want us to leave the notes? We'll be in town all week, and can pick it up later."

Dude-Sam (He already had a friend Sam, two people with the same name is weird!) waved away Maddie's enthusiastic thanks, saying she had provided a ton of information already online, it was only fair they returned the favor.

"Besides, our methods are pretty much inconsequential. Salt lines against domes of energy? There's no comparison."

Danny quietly cursed himself for zoning out earlier, but had an idea that half their conversation bounced from the emails that he hadn't read, anyway.  
He took his milk out into the living room, heading toward the stairs. The kitchen excuse wouldn't last much longer.

"Hey buckwheat."

He paused. Really? Of all the nicknames.

Danny turned, staring at the green-eyed one. Dave? Dean? Something with a D.

"What's your take on the whole ghost business, while these two are busy nerding out?"

The man gestured to his brother and Maddie, who were bent over a notebook and taking turns pointing out things. Fast friends, apparently.

Danny took a slow sip of his chocolate milk, mulling over his options.

On one hand, he could agree that ghosts are evil, while on the other… well, Mom didn't really phrase it like that, did she? She didn't go on a rant about their evil nature, or how destructive they could be.

He swallowed.

"They're… interesting, I guess. Act a lot like people, for better or worse."

The man threw him a casual grin, standing up and straightening out his suit jacket.

"See a lot of them, then? Ghosts, I mean."

Danny regarded him warily, wondering if the sudden movement was meant to be an intimidation tactic. It certainly didn't work - Many ghosts he faced were several times the normal size of what they should have been. After punching what looked like a were-jaguar the size of a van_ in the face_, it was a bit hard to be intimidated by normal people.

Not even touching on Pariah Dark, or even Walker, who seemed to switch sizes constantly.

"Yeah, sometimes. They pop up at school a lot. It's been awhile since anyone got hurt from the appearances." He paused, wondering if he should even continue with the thought.

The next words were tentative.

"Phantom is usually quick to drive them off."

The man nodded, slouching against the door frame and rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. Not intimidation, then.

"Sammy's told me a bit about that Phantom character. We'll probably look into him later."

Danny took another drink, feeling curious.

"You don't seem very passionate about the ghosts." D-something quirked an eyebrow. Danny rephrased.

"I mean, You don't sound like you're talking about something evil."

The man hummed, looking… melancholic? Maybe he was misinterpreting body language.

"These guys, the Ghosts here, they bug people, and damage buildings, throw the town into another dimension, but none of them seem to go out of their way to hurt or kill people."

Danny wanted to mutter something like 'Yeah, 'cause I kick their butt before they have a chance to execute their dastardly plan' but remained silent.

"The ghosts we hunt down, they actually kill people. It's almost nice to find a monster that just annoys people."

D-something shot him a cheeky grin, but it fell too quickly to be genuine.

Danny didn't bring up possession, or Skulker's plan to skin him and mount his head on the wall, or a sword that forced living your worst fears, or having happiness sucked away. If Mom was the one briefing them on ghosts, they'd learn.

He figured their conversation was over, and headed up the stairs. He snagged his bag, careful not to slosh the milk, and glanced down.

Green eyes met blue, carefully considering on both ends.

He closed his room door, locking it to be safe, before dumping the sword on his desk and flopping onto his bed.

He scrunched his eyes shut, violently ruffling his own hair before curling around a pillow, just breathing.

Today… Today had been eventful.

He needed to decompress.

Some part of Jazz's lectures wiggled in his mind, and he turned his face further into the blankets, letting the memory of this morning resurface.

With the sword quietly buzzing on the edge of his senses, it wasn't hard.

The man had been wearing a suit, and the green goo around him suggested he'd been killed by ghosts...but had given as good as he got. The light show couldn't have been random, and the sword just felt strange.

Why were the Winchesters in town? They were ghost hunters, apparently, going after ghosts that killed people. How would they have known about the body? From the sound of it, they'd been in town all day, and had been emailing Mom for days. How the heck did he remember their last name, but couldn't freaking remember the green-eyed dude's proper name?

He tapped away on his phone, shooting Tucker a message.

The only reason he knew he was drifting off was the sharp jerk back into reality by Tucker's return text alert.

He vaguely heard the front door open and close, the rumble of an old car engine start up.

Danny pushed the phone to the edge of his bed, setting the alarm to an obscenely early hour.

His brain and body were fried. He'd study in the morning.

Exams started tomorrow, right?

No wait, that was next week. He went through the motions of pulling his notebook out, arms feeling more and more tired as he made a note to himself.

Homework, then. Homework in the morning.

Wasn't he meeting someone?

Tucker, probably.

* * *

**Ever heard of the Winchesters? They stopped by FW. Apparently ghost hunters. - DF**

**Somehow I ended up on guns and police records. -TF**

**No relation to Dean and Sam Winchester, right? - TF**

**That's their names, actually. - DF**

**Yikes. I'll send you a link. -TF**

** Be Careful. -TF**


	7. Thanks for that

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them. **_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 6: Thanks for That

* * *

There's a type of sleep where dreams come easy, the body sinking into a cloud of images and conjured sounds.

There's a type that feels restful, darkness wrapping around the sleeper and letting time drift away.

Unfortunately, between random ghost attacks and his own parents bursting into his room unannounced, Danny had adjusted to the third type of sleeping; the kind where you didn't realize you were asleep until it registers that the lighting was wildly different than you last remembered.

Maybe he had dreamed, but they always vanished from memory just as his eye opened. And so, as his phone buzzed and chirped a melody, Danny stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for his mind to reboot.

It was still dark out. Why was he awake? His phone said it was Tuesday morning.

After the chatter of his alarm was silenced, Danny let his eyes water in a wide yawn.

Electronics at his desk blinked innocently in the dark, temporarily lighting up his wall in green or red. Everything felt quiet, still in a way that wasn't quite peaceful, but far from malevolent.

Stretching, he felt a satisfying crackle up his spine. He ignored the itch between his shoulderblades as he pulled his shirt over his head. The jeans from yesterday could stay.

The hinge on his door creaked slightly, and the tiles on the bathroom were pleasantly cool under his feet. The usual ritual commenced, eyes still bleary with sleep.

His lower back itched.

He scratched it.

Reaching up to his toothbrush still lodged between teeth and cheek, a smear of color caught his eye. Under his fingernails was something dark, almost black.

Danny fumbled for the light switch, taking a moment to spit.  
Yellow light flooded the bathroom, and his stomach dropped at the sight of what was unmistakably blood.

He twisted around, squinting against the light. There was a wide band of dark red painting the length of his spine, smears of dried blood reaching around his sides like crackling stripes.

Danny brushed a palm across back, gingerly rubbing away some of the liquid. There was a tender spot, a bit raised like a recently-healed wound.

Nothing open, thankfully.

A shower and a thorough inspection later, Danny peeked into his room, half expecting someone to lunge out at him. He lit up a ball of energy in his palm and let the green light flood his room.

A silver blade glinted from his sheets, and a wave of incredulous disbelief slapped him.

Danny picked up the blade, by its solid handle, turning it around.

"How did you get out of my bag?" he murmured softly, glancing at the bag where it had been contained the day before.

He almost facepalmed. At some point in the night, he had opened the bag up and dumped the contents onto his bed. There was an open notebook with his own sloppy handwriting.

"_follow tucker's link. do homewor_k." as well as crumpled paper and a fair amount of pencil shavings.

Thanks, self. Way to keep in mind that swords, splinters and sleeping definitely went together. He thanked his superhuman healing once again, rolling his shoulders and twisting his back experimentally. He didn't feel sore, so it couldn't have been very deep in the first place.

He leaned down, placing the sword on his nightstand. The shirt was balled up and thrown into the trash. He tore apart the bedding, making sure there were no blood spots he needed to take care of.

With that mystery solved, Danny flicked on the lights to his room and turned on his computer.

Homework. What a way to start the day.

Part of him was buzzing away happily. This was supposed to be the last assignment of the year. Everything coming up was just review for exams, and then he was free!

He didn't have honors or special mention or anything, but he was passing all his classes. Graduation was such a nice word. Somehow the energy from that thought drove him through the questions, words coming easy.

He heard something.

Danny whipped around, half out of his chair before he realized his Dad was in the doorway.

Jack grinned at him, two mugs of something steaming in his hands.

"Burning the midnight oil, I see. Care for some hot chocolate?"

Danny sank back into his chair, a smile coming naturally.

"Woke up early, actually. But yeah, I'd love some."

The man strode into the room, stepping around the tangled sheets still thrown across the floor.

"I'm actually just finishing." Danny offered, reaching out to take the warm mug between his hands.

He quietly relished in the heat, breathing in the steam with his eyes closed. Something seemed...off. The smile his father gave wasn't as boisterous as it usually was, and he hadn't gone on some wild tangent about whatever he had been working on.

Danny peered up through his eyelashes as he took a sip. Jack was rolling the mug between two hands, a tight frown tugging his face into something unfamiliar.

"You alright?"

His dad looked up, almost startled at the question.

He wouldn't meet Danny's gaze, though, and started staring back at his mug of hot chocolate. Alarm bells started going off, but he pushed them aside. His leg started bouncing anxiously. Just wait for whatever Dad had to say.

The older man took a breath, letting it out in an explosive sigh.

"You see… Last night, we got a phone call. Vlad, my old buddy, he… He's gone missing. They think he's dead."

There were a few beats of silence, where Danny's brain processed this. It seemed like the gears were just spinning, unhitched from each other and whirring uselessly.

Vlad...missing? How would they even know? The man went on excursions into the ghost zone as often as Danny used to miss classes. How would they suspect he was dead, if he was just missing? He was a billionaire. Wasn't going on unannounced vacations kinda what they_ did_?

His dad continued, voice strained like something was tight in his throat.

"Preliminary reports say that he had a ghost portal, and it had malfunctioned. It… well, we've gone through enough simulations on the computer about portal safety."

Jack tried to grin wryly, but it turned into a sad grimace, and he hid his face behind the mug, gulping at the scalding liquid. At the time, he had half-jokingly included an animation about the portal exploding their house. With the reality staring him in the face, that kind of joke twisted at his gut unpleasantly.

Danny was still staring, heart pounding in his ears. There was a high-pitched ringing somewhere, and he couldn't tell if it was in his head or coming from somewhere else.

The man's face from the alley swam into his mind's eye, and suddenly visions of ghosts getting fed up with his smarmy manipulation popped up. He would fight back, Vlad was strong.

But… the portal.

They sat in silence, tension clawing into his muscles, blue eyes focusing on nothing in particular as his mind churned. There was no way. This was Vlad Masters, Plasmius. He was like a freaking cockroach.

Danny heard a faint crunch, and glanced down. There was ice floating in the chocolate drink, and the steam had long since departed.

There was a sense of detachment, like 'Ice Powers are running amok. Dad is right here to see it, oh well.'

Danny took a sip.

It wasn't nearly as good cold.

The mug was set aside.

The ringing was louder. He wondered if his dad could hear it.

Danny gently pushed his keyboard away from the edge of his desk, delicately shifting papers around.

There was a faint sniffle. Danny ignored it.

Instead, he let his mind blank, concentrating on the sharp geometric lines of the items on his desk. He really should clean more often. He could make a grid out of it.

A stack of papers here, the pencil precisely parallel. Markers arranged by color.

Oh, his monitor wasn't centered.

Danny leaned out of his chair, reaching out to adjust the display.

A hand caught his arm.

He turned, eyes wide and blank. It felt like his breath was caught in his chest.

Part of him wondered if he was even breathing anymore.

His dad tugged him, and he let the faint pressure guide him out of his chair, onto the bed next to his father.

"You can cry, you know. I already have."

Danny turned his head into his dad's arm, shaking his head slightly.

He felt a hand ruffle his hair gently. Still, there were no tears. No greif.

Just this strange...blank feeling.

Like his organs had been scooped out and the empty space left to dry.

He swallowed.

"Do you want to stay home from school today?"

There was a long pause, and Danny almost shook his head.

The idea of going to school like this… listening to the lectures and pretending nothing had changed…. it twisted unpleasantly in his gut.

He nodded.

"Alright. Print your homework, and I'll drop it off at school later."

Something warm pressed against the back of his hand, and he opened it reflexively.

The half-finished mug was tucked between his fingers.

Danny nodded absently, automatically taking a sip.

Part of him realized the moment when his dad left the room, but he couldn't be sure when exactly that was. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours later.

He finished the cup and stood, wobbling for a moment.

He clicked 'Submit Assignment' and made a note to let his dad know he didn't need to drive to school.

With a slow breath, he shuffled out of his room, down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He accepted a tight hug from his mom, the mug held between them like a tissue-thin barrier.

He saw that she had made waffles and bacon, the rich smell making him feel a bit queasy.

It was still… 4:46 in the morning.

He rationalized that it was just too early for breakfast.

Danny didn't protest when a plate of food was set in front of him as he sat down at the table.

He picked at the food, separating bacon into strings of meat and fat without eating either.

There was no way Vlad was dead.

Missing, he could believe. Hell, he could believe the idiot was in space somewhere, trying to possess an asteroid or something equally ridiculous.

But dead?

Even in alternate universes, alternate timelines, the man was always around.

Annoying, clingy, aggressive, broken, but always alive.

He felt his throat getting tight and swallowed roughly, pushing it away.

Soon enough, it's 7am, and his parents were headed for the door, saying something about a lawyer and further investigation.

He waved them off, accepting more hugs and words that seemed to float over his head.

A long time was spent on the couch, staring at the TV. It wasn't even on, just a blank black screen.

His thoughts felt like they were molasses, oozing slowly and unproductively.

At one point, he heard his text tone chime from upstairs, but couldn't muster the energy to get up and check.

There was a knocking at the door.

He got up, and checked the peekhole.

The two men… The...Winchesters? Tall and Taller.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, wondering if he should explain that his parents were away.

Danny ended up sitting on the stairwell, listening to a muffled conversation beyond the door, and the faint purr of an engine driving away.

He leaned back, draping himself over the stairs with all the fluid flexibility of a teenager.

Somehow, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, the light had turned golden, long shadows cast through the curtains of the living room.

There was something banging around in the basement. His interest piqued, Danny climbed off the stairs (Why on earth was he sleeping on the stairs?) and padded toward the basement door.

Just as he was turning the doorknob, the memory of this morning struck.

Vlad missing/dead, his parents gone for the day.

Part of him hoped that the noise was Vlad screwing around, and Danny was moments away from a 'Just kidding, this was part of my plot all along!' kind of rant.

He phased through the door, gliding down the steps and peeking out.

His stomach plummeted again.

The faint ray of hope was shattered, leaving behind an ugly frustration clawing up.

There were two people, unfamiliar in black suits, poking around the portal.

They each had a strange white glow bubbling around them, like an aura that couldn't quite decide what form it should be in. The black-haired one was a woman, from appearances.

"This doesn't make any sense."

Danny clenched his fists, ready to step out and confront these trespassers. Spirit or human, the portal wasn't a public attraction.

"The first rift destabilized so easily. What makes this one different?"

"Our scouting party said the mechanics were exactly the same, they should fall apart the same way."

Rift?

The first one?

There was that ringing sound again. He was sure it was in his head.

And then, this strange blanketing pressure, as if he was flying hard with the wind when it suddenly changed directions, buffeting into his ears and eyes.

With a flicker of aura lashing out, one of the people suddenly changed locations.

Something clicked.

Vlad's portal mysteriously exploded.

They destabilized a rift, screwing with the mechanics intentionally.

_It was THEM._

Danny wasn't even aware of his transformation, but it was with white gloves that he grasped the man's head, slamming it forward into a wall. There was a crunch, but he hardly cared.

A shout of confusion, and the woman was bearing down on him with a silver blade.

He dove to the side, rage swirling up into shivering balls of green energy, flung haphazardly in her direction.

The energy scattered on the lab's ghost-proof walls, but the pressure-switch had moved the woman behind him. Danny twisted around, lime green energy creating a forcefield around him.

The blade sank through it, slowing the blow dramatically, but not deflecting it.

She pulled back, and Danny noted that the aura flares looked more like bird wings flapping than random distortions.

They regarded each other for a moment, just before Danny dove to the side, slicing outward with a line of energy.

The man from before yelled in pain, clasping a hand to the wide wound opening up on his torso. The blade in his hand lowered, and the ringing grew louder in Danny's ears.

He winced, the sound setting his teeth on edge. He resisted the urge to clasp his hands over his ears.

Each of them spread their wings, the limbs translucent as colored saran wrap, but clearly layered with innumerable feathers. The sight played with his eyes, dancing around like they couldn't decide on being a single pair of wings or hundreds tucked together.

Danny bared his teeth, fists lighting up in a dangerous dark green.

The wings flapped, and they vanished.

It felt like his heart was pounding a mile a minute. Tense was certainly an understatement as he bounced on the soles of his feet.

He waited for them to reappear and engage him again, the energy crackling fiercely around his fists. The ghost portal was humming mildly behind the thick metal doors his parents had blocked it behind.

A minute passed, nothing.

There wasn't even evidence that the two had been there - even the blood was gone from the ground, and the wall where he had broken one's nose. (Possibly even their face. He couldn't recall quite how hard he had hit)

He drew a shuddering breath, standing upright again.

Danny let the energy fizzle out, listening hard to his surroundings.

There was an engine outside, and the front door opened and closed. Familiar voices let him know that his family was back.

With a faint curse in his mind, Danny leapt up through the ceiling, hovering in the bathroom and closing the door as quietly as he could.

He got the shower running, and let the water's sound cover the static of his transformation.

"Honey! We brought back pizza!"

His mom's voice echoed up the stairs.

Danny phased out of his clothes, stepped into the shower and let the hot water pound onto his shoulders.

Anger still simmered in the pit of his stomach.

He barely refrained from punching the tiled wall.

* * *

**Missing you at school. Ghost trouble? -TF**

**I assume you're not making our meeting - TF**

**Please tell me you didn't confront the Winchesters. -TF**

**Call me ASAP. Worried. - TF**


	8. Pay attention

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

**_Feel free to review~_**

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 7: Pay Attention

* * *

The pizza was delicious, but that wasn't really a surprise. The fact that his parents didn't insist he talk about why he was glowering at his food was probably more of one. He supposed that as long as he was actually eating again, he could glare as many holes in his food as he wanted.

Danny excused himself from the table, gnawing on a crust while he rinsed his plate and pushed it into the dishwasher.

His phone chimed again, and he bolted up the stairs, barely hearing his mother's well-wishes for sleep. Danny remembered that he was supposed to meet Tucker earlier today, and never even got out of the house.

Still, there was an energy quickening his bones now, jumping around the back of his head like so much static. Something fierce and angry, eager for a target to leap after. What was on his friend's mind.

He threw himself onto the bed, scooping up his phone and clicking swiftly through the recent texts. Yes, from Tucker, a few from Sam also inquiring about his wherabouts, assuming ghosts. He felt a pang somewhere in his chest, something sad and angry and just a little guilty.

Danny held down one of the buttons, waiting for the phone to begin ringing before tucking it between his shoulder and ear. He pulled on a robe over his damp tee shirt, raking fingers through still-wet hair and plopped down in front of his computer.

There was research to be done.

The mouse scraped against his desk at the speed he was going, opening up old ghost files and the program that let him slide through the backdoor to one of his parent's databases - to check on their collection of information. A green line blinked innocently at him, waiting for search inquiries.

He paused. What else did he have, aside from teleportation?

"Danny, is that you?"

He blinked, turning automatically toward the voice in his ear.

"Yeah, It's me. Hi, I'm alive and fine at home."

There was a bark of laughter on the other end, twisting into a gusty sigh.

"Well, thanks for that. You could have texted me earlier that you would miss school.

"I know, I know, sorry. Listen, I need your help."

"Listening."

"I'm doing research right now, but I want to meet up with you tomorrow after school. Vlad is…"

He trailed off, tapping his fingers against the keyboard. Wondering what would pop up, he typed 'Teleportation' into the inquiry and let it run.

"..well, he's in trouble. I'll tell you more later, but I met the ghosts that did it. I think they're trying to do the same to me."

"Wait wait wait wait. Slow down, back up. Vlad's in trouble. Okay, I get it. 'No one hurts my arch nemesis except me' It's weird, but I get it. What happened to him, and what are the ghosts trying to do to you?"

The list was massive. Apparently teleportation was a fairly common ghost trait. He noticed a new column to the far left. W.J. What was that?

"They blew up his portal. He's missing."

Danny was careful not to mention the strange assumption that everyone thought he was dead. There was a long silence from the other end.

"...Okay. Wow. Didn't expect that. You alright over there? How's the portal?"

He clicked 'W.J.' and started browsing entries with that column. There was a fair few. Most of them didn't really strike a chord with his memory. Woman in White? He knew Walker was in all-white, but couldn't believe that anyone could mistake him for a woman.

BuruBuru, Death Omen, Death Echo, Revenant, Shojo, Specter, Vengeful Spirit… He clicked on the first one, out of curiosity for the name more than anything else.

"As far as I can tell, the portal is fine. They were talking about how ours is harder to destabilize. Which is…. good, I suppose. Still, I wish I could figure out WHY they wanted to blow up the portal. As far as I can tell, ghosts love the thing. It's hard for them to come to the normal world from the Ghost Zone otherwise..."

* * *

_/Buruburu/ A ghost born from Fear. It strikes fear into its victims, which then spreads to other humans nearby, creating a ghost sickness._

_ The sickness starts as mild anxiety, and over 48 hours, grows to paranoia and hallucinations. In the final stages, the victim suffers a heart attack. Tends to aim the sickness at people who use fear as a weapon. _

_Weaknesses: _

_1) Salt and burn the bones of its original body._

_ 2) Reenact the Buruburu's death, on the spirit. (Example: Luthar Garland was road-hauled, creating a Buruburu. Using iron chain, the act was repeated on his ghost, killing the ghost and neutralizing the sickness.) _

_3) Can dissipate the form with iron - only lasts a few minutes_

_ 4) It cannot walk on holy ground._

* * *

"Hey, you still there?"

"Sorry Tuck, I got distracted by the updates in my parent's database. Some really weird stuff. I can't tell if they're just extrapolated legends, or actual types of ghosts."

"Types?"

"Yeah. Some of the names are weird, though."

"Unlike Inviso-bill?"

"I thought we agreed never to mention that again."

Tucker snickered.

"I'll check out the new additions later. Hacking skills and all that. You were saying the new ghosts wanted to destroy the portal. Maybe there's something big going on in the Ghost Zone?"

Danny hummed, clicking over to 'Revenant.'

"Thanks for mentioning that. I bet they'd know about what happened to Vlad as well."

Tucker made a quiet noise, the faint click of a keyboard audible over the phone.

"Good luck with the research tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?"

"Yes, and thanks. I'll email you what I can remember about them."

"Awesome. Should I let Sam know you're alive, or will you do that on your own?

Danny paused, leaning back from the computer. He switched the phone to his other ear, leg starting to bounce again.

"I'll… let her know."

"Thanks dude."

Danny rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes tightly.

"Yeah, no problem. See you later?"

"Yup! Happy hunting."

The line went dead, and he tossed his phone onto the desk with a clatter.

He chewed at a spot on the inside of his lip, eyes scanning uselessly over the text of this new article. His mind was still buzzing away. What should he say?

Danny retrieved the phone, hitting 'reply' to one of Sam's texts and toying with the keys.  
What should he say?

Finally, he growled, punching out a quick text and throwing the phone onto his bed, turning back to the computer and clicking out of the new entries. He'd read them later. There was a niggling in the back of his head, that this was bigger than any of them could handle, and he really shouldn't be involving his friends. Friend. He wasn't involving Sam anyway.

A few hours later, and he was no closer to finding the strange ghosts in his parent's database than he was traveling to the moon. The anger leftover from this afternoon was starting to curl up around his spine, sitting low in his gut like a lead weight.

Finally, he decided to sleep.

Twice during the night he jerked awake, the faint mist of his ghost sense dissipating.

The first time, he lept out the window before he could really take stock of his surroundings, and couldn't pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.

He wasted a few precious hours circling the town, scouting for whatever ghost had gotten close enough to be detected. He could find nothing.

The second time, he was half awake, but by the time he was rolling out of bed, it had already winked out again.

Danny punched his pillow, cursing ghosts that couldn't just pick a time during the normal day.

On the bright side, he did get a few hours of sleep after that, and was able to wake up the next morning with only minimal bleariness.

Of course, yesterday's events happily sucker-punched him right in the middle of an early cup of coffee.

Splendid timing, as always.

It seemed his mind couldn't decide on 'Denial' and 'Anger' and just decided to flip-flop between them. The first was currently winning. They hadn't found a body, and there were no news reports of what the house looked like, or how they had decided on the man's 'missing' status. Until he saw proof, the halfa was off flaunting his giant purple football somewhere in the Ghost Zone, waving his cape around and pushing ghosts into following poorly thought-out plans.

Egotistical bastard.

His dad was picking at his toast, still looking down in the dumps and tired as all get-out. Maddie looked equally exhausted, but was flipping through the book the Winchesters had given her and appeared to be entering data into her laptop.

Part of him wondered if they'd ever grow suspicious of his lack of interest in a car. Their home was a fair distance from Casper High, and he often left right before school was about to start, but no longer was marked down as tardy. Did they even notice these kinds of things?

Either way, he had promised to attend school today.

The door clicked behind him, and it was only a transformation and quick flight away.

Maybe he could swing by the cafeteria and grab a strawberry milk before classes started.

There was no shame in that, those things were awesome.

* * *

**You weren't at school, and Tucker says you're not responding. -SM**

**Are you alive? -SM**

**...**

**Do you even have your phone? -SM**

**...**

**Are you even reading my texts anymore, or should I just stop caring. -SM**

**...**

**Yes to all. -DF**

**Rude. -SM**


	9. You only think you know the whole story

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**Someone pointed out that Vlad's death wasn't good, from a literary standpoint. "He deserved a fight scene! If the Angels and Ghosts are truly so close in power levels, he should have been able to fight back or dodge" My reply? - People do not always die in a blaze of glory. You're used to that, from books and TV shows. Cool people get cool deaths. Most of the time though, life doesn't work that way. People die in car accidents, they slip and break their neck in the shower, they die in ungraceful and unanticipated ways. Besides, the Angels didn't even kill Vlad - the explosion from the portal did. Can't really dodge something you didn't even see coming. **_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 8: You only Think you know the whole story

* * *

The first few classes were painless, review review like he had anticipated. By lunchtime, 'Anger' had taken a turn, and Danny had taken it out on an old folder in the back of his locker. He had gotten some strange looks, smelling strongly of burnt plastic and smoke.

His classes were about the same. More reviews. He felt at this point, they either knew the information or didn't. It was a bit annoying to see every teacher using the same techniques of exam overviewing.

At one point he saw Sam heading toward him in the hallway, and ducked into the men's bathroom. It wasn't cowardly, he just…. didn't want to talk to her.

Right.

Lunch rolled around, and his turkey sandwich was just as dry as every other turkey sandwich they served. Extra mayonnaise and mustard packets only could do so much to help.

Danny had perched himself in a shadowy corner of the school grounds, tucked amongst some roots. The previous class had taken a vote, and they'd be taking their science exam tomorrow, instead of next week.

It was nice, he supposed, that he could finish 'exam week' a day early.

Tucker spotted him. Well, to be more accurate, Tucker remembered where Danny liked to hide during lunch, and followed his memory.

He twisted to see his friend, watching as the other boy plopped against the tree next to him.

"Turkey again?"

"Yeah."

"Any news on Vlad?"

Danny shook his head, taking another bite.

"Rough. What happened, anyway? You were all ominous last night."

He sighed, scuffing at the dirt with his heel.

"I dunno, Tuck. Mom and Dad got news that he went missing, and for some reason everyone assumes…"

His friend nudged him with an elbow.

"Assumes?"

"Well, they think he's dead."

Tucker turned completely, lowering his chicken nuggets.

"Seriously? And you're not halfway to Wisconsin already?"

Danny hung his head.

"I know, but exams are next week, and there's been weird stuff happening with ghosts lately…"

"Those kinds of things never stopped you before. Sounds like you're making excuses"

Danny rubbed his face with his hands, sandwich laying forgotten on his lap. It was more than that, it was more complicated, but that really did sum up why he wasn't making Vlad a big priority.

"Someone died, Tucker. I found someone's body, and it really looked like ghosts had did it."

His friend was silent for a moment, voice hesitant when it returned.

"Here in Amity Park?"

He nodded. He didn't even know if he wanted to explain what he had seen, or explain the uncomfortable chill creeping over his shoulders whenever he remembered...or the _smell. _

"Woah."

They shared a moment of pensive reflection, staring at their own lunches, before Tucker's smartphone buzzed with a text message. He pulled it out, whisked through the security measures and read it aloud.

"Going to gym tonight with Valerie. Tell me if Danny pulls his head out of his ass."

"From Sam, I assume?"

"Who else would be that snarky toward you? Why is it taking so long for you to make up with your girlfriend, anyway? It's almost been a month."

"We broke up, Tucker."

His friend whipped around, wide-eyed.

"WHAT?"

Danny took a bite out of his sandwich, the furrow in his eyebrows making his displeasure obvious.

"So all this back-and-forth communicating through me was between angry exes, and not a bickering couple? Aaah, that's so lame."

Tucker sagged down the tree, tossing a piece of chicken into his mouth. Extra Barbecue sauce, because there's no such thing as too much of a good thing.

"What happened, and why didn't you tell me. I thought I was your best buddy, dude."

Danny finished his sandwich, twisting open a bottle of water. He wiped the spilled drops onto his jeans.

"Look, I thought she told you already. You guys still hang out, right?"

"Well yeah, but we do other things, like bowling, movies and arguing about diets. You're only the topic of our conversation like, 45 percent of the time."

He managed a huff of laughter.

"Yeah, well, after the two of you got hurt a few months ago, I guess I got into overprotective mode."

Tucker tilted his head.

"I don't remember that. I mean, obviously I remember the hospital, though I wish I didn't. Hot nurses or not, that place freaks me out."

Danny waved his hand like he was brushing away a cobweb.

"Sam kept putting herself in MORE danger, like she had to prove herself, and I ended up rescuing her. I guess she got angry, and we both said some mean things. I said we should break up, she agreed."

"Apparently not as agreeing as you thought."

"Yeah, well…"

Danny crinkled the plastic of his water bottle, watching the light refract.

"Why not just talk to her?"

He shot Tucker a baleful look.

"I tried that, Twice. One ended up with her insisting that we weren't actually broken up, and the other was mostly more angry yelling."

"That's weird. That doesn't sound like Sam. Any signs of ghostly interference?"

"Not everything can be blamed on ghosts, Tucker."

His friend adjusted his beret, slipping on a wry grin and leaning back against the rough bark.

"And yes, I did check."

"Knew it….Buuuut I suppose since this is the 'admitting everything at once' stage, I suppose I should tell you that my parents are dragging me off to vacation. I'd refuse and stick around for you two, but It's Hawaii."

Danny raised an eyebrow, raising his water in cheers.

"No man, by all means. That sounds awesome. Get a tattoo or something, and some pictures of yourself failing to surf."

"Aaaand I've kinda been taking my exams early this week, so I'll be leaving this weekend. Like, day after tomorrow, weekend."

Danny grinned.

"Was that an invitation?"

Tucker sniffed haughtily.

"Pshh. I don't know what you mean. I mean, why on earth would I invite my best friend to play video games until unholy hours on a school day? Especially since we'd be gorging on the greasiest of junk foods while doing so. Who DOES that? Weirdos, that's who."

"I get enough of the monologuing from Technus, man. Cut that out."

He was finally starting to lighten up, a real smile tugging at his lips. Tucker shot his own grin, the back of his mind crowing victory.

"So, tonight? My place?"

"Tomorrow's just another review day anyway, why not spend my last Friday with you in a sleep-deprived stupor?"

"Wise words, my friend. Wise words indeed."

* * *

**Why didn't you tell me the two of you broke up? -TF**

**I thought Danny told you -SM**

**He said the same about you - TF**

**Why aren't you guys talking? -TF**

**It's a long story -SM**


	10. Player 2 has joined

_**AN: I'm going through and tweaking some of the chapters, to edit mistakes I missed (The glory of self-beta-ing)**_

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_***cackling happily* This scene was only supposed to be like, four paragraphs, but the characters grabbed the reins in the best way. The next chapter will be awesome. Thanks, muses. **_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 9: Player 2 has joined

* * *

As promised, there was video games, pizza, ridiculous amounts of other junk food and a small stack of movies that they never actually started.

Through experimentation, they discovered that Danny's ability to enter a 'video game world' was, in fact, a specialized power and not an extension of intangibility.

After the fourth time ending up under his desk, tangled in cords, Tucker gave up on the idea of playing the game from inside it.

After the sixth accusation of cheating, Danny agreed to play fair and use a controller, instead of entering the game.

Around 7pm, Tucker's parents came up with a large pizza for the two of them, not realizing they had already ordered their own. The teen graciously accepted it, saying it was his new personal pizza, and Danny could have the other one.

"Any pizza is a personal pizza, as long as you try hard and believe in yourself."

As the night wound down, turning into morning, their playing had become less competitive and more ridiculous. They spent nearly twenty minutes trying to stack inventory items on top of each other, and see how far they'd fling when their characters jumped in like a leaf pile. There was a moment when Tucker couldn't breath for laughing so hard, when his 'belt of invisibility' glitched with his character, and acted like a hyperactive hula hoop.

"So how will you get your diploma, if you're not even sticking around for the ceremony?" Danny asked, trying to find the rumored 'invisible bridge' that should have linked levels 2 and 5 over a river of lava.

Tucker's character bounced up behind him, shoving the avatar into the lava, mashing the 'taunt' button as Danny's character burned.

"It'll come in the mail. I completed all the classes and exams, and gave a valid excuse. For all their posturing, there's really not much they can do to withhold a diploma without the person being in like, police-level trouble."

Danny scowled, slaughtering a few newbies milling around, boosting his experience points and rushing at Tuck's Avatar. His controller was tossed to the couch, arms flying up in disbelief when Tucker sidestepped, sending Danny's character plummeting once again into the lava.

"Seriously? That's freaking stupid. What the hell." Tucker just cackled at him.

He poured himself a soda, briefly entertaining the idea of pouring it over his friend's lap in revenge. No, one instance of cleaning sticky shit out of delicate electronics was enough.

He flopped on the couch, deliberately throwing his arms out in Tucker's face, pretending to yawn and ignoring the protests. It turned into a sputtering cough when a handful of popcorn was shoved in his face.

"Dude, that got up my nose!"

He phased out, intangibility letting the crumbs fall to the floor, shaking his head to get them loose.

Danny didn't even bother to check his phone when it chimed a text alert.

"Your parents?"

Danny turned his head slightly, side-eyeing him.

"Nah, Sam."

Tucker pursed his lips, opening his mouth. Danny cut him off.

"I know, I know, we should make up already."

"Actually, I was going to say you should pass me some more pizza, but if it's already on your mind…"

"Liar."

"You wound me. Shut up and fix your problem."

Danny watched as Tucker turned to the side, putting his foot up on Danny's shoulder and pushing until the blue-eyed boy was sliding off the couch.

He let himself flop down into the carpet face-down, stretching his arms out.

"I don't wannaaaa." He whined, kicking his feet.

"Oh my god, Danny. Stop being a child."

He wiggled on the carpet, pulling the bowl of popcorn toward him.

"For the love of -" Tucker set his controller down, bouncing off the couch and standing over Danny.

"You have three seconds. One."

Danny stared up at him balefully, deliberately shoving some popcorn in his mouth.

"Two." Tucker put his hands on his hips, looking unimpressed.

"THREE!" He bent down grabbing his friend's ankles and yanking the teen backward. Danny yelped, kicking automatically and spilling the popcorn, but Tuck only dropped him for a second, leaning down and scooping him up over his shoulder. His ghost half had made him rather light, even as a human. He'd been compared to a preteen girl once, much to his dismay. He was taller than Tucker now! This wasn't fair!

"OI! Lemme go!"

Tucker snatched the phone up off the table, wobbling a bit from Danny's thrashing. He shuffled into the guest bedroom, throwing Danny onto the bed and grinning when the bounce flung him off into a wall.

"No getting out of this with ghost powers. You can come back after you call her."

A head of dark hair poked up over the edge of the bed, looking betrayed.

The door clicked shut, and sounds from the other room told Danny that his friend had gone back to playing video games.

He climbed onto the bed, burying his head in the pillows and flopping his arm over to where his phone had landed. He fumbled around for a moment, before clicking it open and turning so he could read it.

Yup. More texts from Sam.

He really wished it was as easy as he had explained to Tucker during lunch. If it was just a safety thing, he'd be fine with his mom giving them training with weapons and stuff. He played with the buttons, typing some nonsense for a while while his mind wandered.

Danny cleared the message, starting over.

**hey. you free for a call? -DF**

Part of him wondered how long it would be until a reply. Apparently, Sam had her phone ready, and replied with a positive.

He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. He didn't want to call. This was such a stupid idea. Tucker was a jerk.

Danny jumped, his phone dancing with vibrations as his ring tone beeped out a melody. He had the sudden urge to just break it and pretend he never contacted her.

He answered the call.

"Hullo?"

"Danny? You wanted to talk?"

He hummed, replying honestly.

"Not really."

Sam didn't reply, so he elaborated.

"Tucker's annoyed at us, and demanded I make up with you."

"And you don't want to."

"Not really." Her voice had been soft, disappointed. Something in his chest twinged.

"I'll assume you don't want to get together again, as well."

"Not really." She huffed a small laugh.

"Are you going to keep repeating that?"

"... not really."

He couldn't help the small grin crawling over his face. He played with the downy feathers he could feel through the pillow's cloth, plucking at a small fuzz of down that had escaped. Her sigh definitely sounded amused. There was lead in his stomach, at the memory of what made them split in the first place. His grin faded.

"What you said before, do you still mean it?" His grip on the phone tightened.

"Which one? The 'I'm going to college, with or without you' or the bit afterward, or the bit after that."

"The last one."

"Yeah."

Danny felt his knuckles ache, and realized his fist had been clenched tightly. Deliberately relaxing it, he cleared his throat.

"And, you don't regret it?"

"I was pretty harsh, and I probably could have said it better. I still mean it, though I regret the delivery."

"Ah."

He swallowed, listening to the sounds through the phone as she moved around. She might have been in the kitchen, he could hear running water. Maybe in the bathroom.

"Can I explain why I said it?"

Danny shook his head into the pillow, murmuring a quiet negative.

"I can guess the reasons, Sam. It's not hard to imagine. Mostly I'm surprised at how calm you're being"

"Calm? What do you mean?" She certainly sounded puzzled.

"Your texts have been pretty angry."

"Oh."

There was a loud beep, and he flinched away, eyeing the phone. Danny tentatively brought it back to his ear as Sam started talking again.

"I didn't even realize I came across that way. Mostly I was just teasing."

He didn't reply.

"I suppose from your responses, I should have guessed you were mad at me."

He wanted to say something like 'Gee, ya think?' but he just hummed agreement. She laughed, and he felt a stab of annoyance.

"So all this time we thought we were arguing, and it was a misunderstanding? That's pretty funny. I mean-"

"Sam," He interrupted, "This isn't a misunderstanding. Tucker wanted me to call, and that's the only reason we're talking."

"What? Why?"

"I already told you why. I'm sick of being jerked around, and you keep saying…" He wouldn't say 'insensitive,' that was too weak. "Stupid shit. At this point, I don't even care if you apologize."

"Danny, what are you-"

His stomach was tight, writhing around like upset snakes. He felt sick.

"If I'm dead, then you're a necrophile, and that's some pretty fucked up shit that I don't want to think about. I'm done. We're done. We broke up, and that's it. Goodbye."

"Danny wait-"

He hung up.

There was a long period of staring at the ceiling, shakily taking deep breaths. He cursed softly, flinging his phone off the edge of the bed, and grabbing an armful of pillows. He rolled off the other side, wedging himself between the wall and the bedframe.

The sounds of gaming continued for a few seconds, before pausing.

Tucker rapped lightly on the door, before opening it.

"You done?"

Danny groaned, sticking a hand up and flipping him off.

"Everything good?"

He waved his hand emphatically, and his friend laughed. The bed bounced as Tucker jumped onto it, pulling a pillow under his chin and peeking at his friend making friends with dust bunnies. His black hair made it really obvious how dusty it was back there.

"So when I come to school tomorrow for my last day, we're all going to be friendly again, right?"

Danny sighed, pressing his face into the down fluff. Tucker stared at him for a moment.

"We're not going to be friendly?"

He gave a short nod. Already, he was feeling guilty. Tucker's last days in Amity Park, and he was making everything worse.

"C'mon, dude. You're going to be king of the dust bunnies soon."

Danny tilted his head, looking up at his friend inquisitively. Tucker gave a small smile, reaching down and plucking a wad of lint from his shirt.

"I promised we could play more if you called, and there's half a pizza calling your name."

Something warm fluttered in his chest, gratitude swirling up with relief. He reached up, accepting Tucker's offered hand and flopping onto the bed beside him. He laid motionless, staring at the ceiling while dark hands plucked more dust from his shirt and hair.

However, it's hard to not react when a ball of dust makes a valiant attempt to be shoved up his nose.

"AGH! You ASS!" Danny flailed his arm, brushing at his face with the other. Tucker cracked up laughing, not even bothering to fight back when he was shoved off the bed, and took a pillow to the face.

"WHAT IS WITH YOU AND SHOVING THINGS UP MY NOSE!"

Tucker didn't even respond, shouting something unintelligible and bolting out the doorway. Danny bounded out after him, a pillow in each hand. He cuffed Tucker around the head, triumphant when the blow sent his friend toppling over the couch.

"Okay, Okay! You win!"

Tucker yelped when another pillow smacked him in the gut, flailing as a body vaulted over the back of the couch, pillow reaching forward to clamp over his face.

His voice was muffled as he slapped Danny's cheeks, pushing his face away. Both legs came up to shove into Danny's gut, lifting the taller boy clean off him.

"I said you win! I submit!"

"I heard you the first time." Danny grinned, steadying himself on the back of the couch. It was a bit uncomfortable being balanced like this, but if he breathed shallowly, it wasn't a problem.

"Want to switch games?" Tucker yawned, keeping one arm up in defense in case Danny decided he wanted to try smothering again.

Danny phased intangible, dropping to the floor and gliding back up to his feet before resuming a substantial form.

"Do you still have Mario Party somewhere?"

"Like, all of them. Do you want us to hate each other forever?" Tucker fixed his beret, climbing to his feet and wandering toward the game cabinet.

"That's not the ONLY result of that game."

Tucker turned to him a dead stare.

"Okay, okay. No Party. Some sort of FPS?"

"Pick a number between one and twelve."

The rest of the night was spent gaming, the two of them tapering off only as dawn became visible through the windows. With each hour that passed, Danny felt the warm curl of happiness. Tucker was his friend, and knew him. There was something glowy and delighted in the back of his head from being known.

With an explosion paused on the screen, the two of them caught a few hours of sleep before their alarms kicked them back into consciousness for a day of Friday classes. Both of them grumbled about being bullied into stacking suitcases by the door, but neither really minded.

* * *

He did well on his Biology exam and lunch was spent with Tucker, recounting some of the more hilarious moments of last night. No mention was made of Sam or the phone call, and his last class got out a few minutes early.

He watched as Tucker was picked up by his parents, the back of their car completely packed with bags that hadn't been there this morning, and his friend looked a bit smushed once the door had closed behind him. They waved their goodbyes, and promised to text as cool things happened.

Ten minutes into his walk home, his phone chimed with a message.

**Getting gas in Amity Park! Wow! Scenery! I'm so amazed! -TF**

Danny fought down a grin, typing back.

**I demand souvenirs -DF**

He strolled toward his house, past the grafitti again. There was a black X through the pink swirls, the thickness showing in how much had dripped down the cement before drying. A spot of color caught his eye, and he spied a neon blue circle, with the same swirls as the original pink version, decorating the inside of an alley.

He took pictures of the two, sending them to Tucker.

**Did you notice there is a tag war going on? -DF (picture attachments)**

**Kinda cool. I noticed the pink one, but not the blue. Are there more? - TF**

Danny pocketed his phone, slipping into the alleyway and making sure no one spotted the white rings sweeping over him. He hitched his backpack higher, diving into the air and spiraling upward. He didn't see any more as he looped downtown, but he did find another X-ed pink one on the back of a gas station.

**And here we see, the subtle war between gangs of amity park. The Black Xes demand submission from the Pink Panthers, but to no avail. -DF **_**(picture attachment)**_

**I saw a blue one on our way out of town. -TF **_**(picture attachment)**_

It was blurry, but still recognizable, the swirls painting an otherwise black stretch of road. Danny alighted on top of a cheap motel, pointing his phone at the pink marks on the roof. A loud rumble caught his attention.

He glanced down, spotting the recognizable black car of the two that had been at his house earlier. Win-something. They parked the car, talking quietly as they entered the same room.

Curiosity or privacy. Curiosity or privacy.

Danny leaned his head back, letting his body slip into invisibility as he dove off the roof, phasing through the window of their room.

He politely averted his eyes as one of them stripped off a shirt, heading toward the small bathroom. His mom's pamphlets were on the small table, a duffel bag open on the floor.

He did a double-take.

Those certainly didn't look like ghost weapons.

He drifted closer, holding his breath and making sure his ice powers were firmly tucked inside.

Yeah, those definitely didn't look like ghost weapons. He could see a box of rounds, very normal gun rounds, sitting beside the bed. There was a shotgun, two pistols and… holy shit, a machete?

Danny dove under the bed, half phased through the mattress when the short-haired one walked across the room, right through where Danny had been standing moments before. Danny covered his mouth with a hand, staring at a rag that was tucked under a considerable collection of knives.

That was definitely not ectoplasm.


	11. Protect me not

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_** My favorite motto when writing stories? "Imagine the worst thing your character could go through, then put them through it." **_

_**My beloved readers, this is only the beginning. **_**_*tossing flower petals, cackling*_**

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 10: Protect me not

* * *

There are times in your life when you realize you should have done something different. For instance, one memorable instance in Tucker's involved pretending his harness was securely fastened on a roller coaster, when he had hidden the undone snap under his leg. The coaster had taken off, and he realized about halfway through the first loop that yes, that snap was quite crucial, and he was probably going to die. He spent the rest of the four minutes convinced that his mortal life quite very near to being at an end, and he really should have eaten that double-bacon cheeseburger during lunch, instead of feeding bits of it to seagulls.

Another instance is when Maddie Fenton realized - halfway through bringing her fist down atop the stapler - that her hand was, in fact, still in the path of the machine. She jerked away, but the momentum still clipped her, and a quick trip to the hospital assured her that stapling fingers wasn't as uncommon as one would think.

Danny had one of those moments as he crouched under the bed of two men that, two minutes ago, he thought he could trust to be at the very least, not serial killers. Ghost hunters, sure. Crazy, possibly. He had assumed his mom would not associate with murderers of real people. He also assumed that he would be safe enough under the bed, invisible and intangible.

That is, until his phone began ringing.

It had felt like his heart stopped.

The cheerful jingle continued for a moment, before he dove for his pocket, panic erupting in his chest and enveloping his mind. Thick boots approached the bed, and he fumbled with the phone, gloved hands slipping on smooth plastic.

The phone dropped to the carpet with a small thump, just as the muzzle of a gun was pointed right into Danny's face.

He stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped everything.

Sharp green eyes peered under the bed, sweeping carefully. The black gun shifted as well, moving from the position right at his forehead, to somewhere near his chest.

Danny held impossibly still, pulling hard on all aspects of his core, praying that no amount of cold would leak and give away his position.

A hand reached out, and somehow his tension escalated.

It picked up his phone, and the man sat up, standing. The ringing silenced.

Danny swallowed, taking a quiet, shaky breath and staring at the carpet below him. Phone or not, he had to get out of there. That was far too close.

He dove into the floor, paranoia gripping at his hind brain.

The wind wasn't even a problem, as Danny refused to drop back into visibility and out of intangibility until he was safe in his room, door locked and blinds closed. Rings of light washed over him, the fuzzy static changing his hair from white to black.

Danny sank to the ground beside his bed, leaning against the frame and letting his racing heart slow down. Another shuddering breath, and he fisted his hands in his hair.

Why had he left his phone? They'd know he was there, they'd come back to his house!

Shit shit shit shit shitshitshit SHIT!

What was on his phone?

Contact information, whoever was calling. His past phone records, too. HIS TEXTS! What had he talked about? Tucker, event times, ignoring Sam's texts, did he mention ghosts at all? Not that he could remember. When was the last time he cleared his history?

Danny leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

The two men, Tucker had mentioned them by name in some texts, had thought Danny had confronted them.

He rolled to his feet, almost lunging toward his computer chair. Tucker had sent him a link, right?

There! The email.

A double-click later, and images filled his screen.

The PDF that opened was one he had expected, but dearly hoped not to see.

Police reports, news articles, photographs, all of them featuring their past guests.

His mind connected the dots as quickly as he could comprehend what he was reading. They had a pattern, an attraction to supernatural rumors. His mom had been in contact for days before they arrived. They had spoken of ghosts, of salt and fire.

It felt like ice was wrapping around his heart, far more venomous than when his frosty core had been overfilled.

Guns in their room, blood cleaned from knives, getting into the house and talking to his mom while Dad was away.

He quickly sent it to his printer, readying a highlighter. The machine clicked its displeasure at the sudden work, spitting out the web pages obediently.

Danny slunk down the stairs, finding his mother sipping away at a glass of wine in the living room, a book sprawled open on her lap.

"Mom."

His voice was sharp, anxious and intensely focused. This was serious, he didn't have time to beat around the bush.

"The guys that came over yesterday - the Winchesters. They're dangerous."

As she looked up, he slid the thin stack onto the book's pages. Mug shots stared up from the paper, green highlighter ink drawing her eye downward. The glass of wine was lowered to the table beside her chair.

"They're serial killers, and I think they're targeting you."

* * *

Their faces stared up from the sheets of paper, horizontal bars in the background showing both their height and situation. Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester.

Their charges ranged from breaking and entering to bank robbery and most importantly, multiple cases of murder. They often posed as FBI, arriving in an area and focusing on one or two families. They spent between a day and a few weeks in the area, before riding away and leaving gruesome bodies in their wake.

Torture, Murder, Ritualistic deaths and desecration of bodies. Serial killer psychopaths, registered as dead but obviously not.

"Ah...yeah."

Danny took a breath, ready to defend his statement, but it felt like the wind had suddenly cut out from his sails. She was agreeing? No defensive reasoning? No denial? She knew?

"What? What do you mean?"

His mom leafed through the sheets of paper, scanning the titles and highlighted parts.

"I know they're dangerous. I've seen this report before."

His eyes widened at her casual speech. She wasn't worried? This.. this was seriously bad news! They were murderers! Human killers! His face was complete shock as she shuffled the pages in order, tapping their bottoms against her book to straighten the pile.

"I'm glad you're looking out for me, sweetie, but I have things under control."

She offered the packet back, and he took it automatically, feeling numb.

Danny looked down at it, at the parts he had highlighted on the first page. They had more kills to their name in real life than he did in Halo.

And his mom was… FINE with this?

The shock finally became too much, and he sagged down onto the couch, covering his face with one hand. He tried desperately to process this, to figure out how this could possibly be okay. His heart was pounding again, a headache starting to grow.

"Danny, are you alright?"

He felt a hand brush his arm, and he slid his own to the side enough to peer up at his mom. Her face was certainly worried, but not about the right thing.

"Under control?"

She nodded.

A spark of incredulous anger flickered to life. Here he was, fighting off ghosts that wanted to take over the world, barely scraping by in school, and she was inviting serial killers over for storytelling? SERIOUSLY? How could she do this?

"How could you do this?"

"Do what, Danny?"

He shot up, sidestepping her outreaching arm. The packet of papers fell in a crumpling heap to the floor.

"How could you be so careless! Are you even taking this seriously?"

Violet eyes darkened in warning.

"I told you, I have this under control."

"You keep going on about how ghosts are scum, why can't you understand that you have to be careful around people, too!"

"Enough yelling, Danny. I understand why you're worried. Calm down and trust me on this."

No, he had enough. He'd protected them from powerful ghosts for years, dealt with shady government agencies trying to tear his parents down, and Vlad constantly sliming into their household. Everything was building up on his shoulders, and now? Rubbing elbows with known murderers!? His parents were oblivious to the point of idiocy, and it was pissing him off! He could clearly remember the heart-stopping fear he had felt, with that pistol pointed at his face, knowing that it was loaded to kill. He didn't want his mom to have that fear.

"How can I trust you, when you're acting reckless and stupid!"

The last word hung in a sudden silence. He still felt the frustrated anger clawing at his throat, but he couldn't figure out how to continue, or take back that word. His mom's reply was quiet, a dark hiss that promised consequences if disobeyed.

"Go to your room. No internet."

He swallowed, throat tight. This wasn't going as planned.

"Fine."

He turned on his heel, stalking toward the stairs. He could feel an electric crackle between his fingertips and scowled, pulling back on the powers that begged to be let loose. He could hold his temper. He dearly hoped his eyes hadn't flashed green. He was nearly eighteen. He could handle being grounded.

"You had better be in your room when I check on you. Don't you dare sneak out tonight."

He paused at the foot of the stairs, squeezing hard on the wooden handrail. The lack of trust hurt, but he hadn't planned on it. There was no telling when those two - the Winchesters - would stop by.

"Fine."

By the time he got to his room, he was practically biting back a scream. He could feel the wisps tickling the back of his tongue, a potential rush of released power and rage. It tasted like lightning and copper.

He took a deep breath, focusing on his icy core. He needed logic, patience and calm. Quiet focus. Less anger, less outrage.

He didn't dare hope that those two wouldn't look through his texts.

His luck was never that good.


	12. What's this?

_**I don't own Danny Phantom or Supernatural, or any rights to them.**_

_**I do have a lot of fun writing fanfiction, though. **_

_**I love the responses I'm getting to some of these chapters. It's super fun to read them!**_

* * *

**Something Wicked**

* * *

Chapter 11: What's this?

* * *

Outrage flickered through his veins as he paced back and forth over his floorboards. He tried to calm himself, thinking over potential situations.

First, the Winchesters were out to get his family - probably his mother, the way they've been singling her out. What would happen if they ran in, guns blazing in the middle of the night? Would he have time to take them out?

How would he do that, anyway. His secret wasn't as important as their lives - if it came down to it, he would reveal himself if there was no other option. The shock value alone might buy him some time.

Was there other ways? He had ghost weaponry. It wasn't very effective against humans, but a few of them could stun and immobilize people fairly effectively. He had Jazz to thank for that knowledge.

There was the Fenton Defense System, robotic arms and nets and lasers built into the house. It was meant to protect against ghostly invaders, but it did have subroutines against normal burglars. That kind of thing would be extremely helpful.

Five steps, turn, three steps, turn, a long step over a shirt on his floor, then back to five steps.

What about the police? Those guys were wanted by the FBI, right? If he presented proof - pictures should be enough - the Feds should take interest and get involved, whether or not the Winchesters were known as dead. They'd been known to fake their deaths before.

But what if this didn't go down in his house? If they called his mom away to some empty park, how would he know?

What about his phone? Were they going through his old texts? His old calls? Would they go after his friends because of this? Shit, that would suck.

Danny took a breath, twisting to the side and attempting to duplicate. There was a disorienting moment of looking at the room from two sets of eyes before his body snapped back together. Anger flared up again, and he threw himself into the computer chair. He should let Tucker know that his phone had been compromised, and he shouldn't message him anymore.

A few clicks later and he got back up to pace. Of course his mom would change the Wifi password.

A burst of cold snaked up through his chest, hissing out between bared teeth. This was the fourth freaking time in the last twenty-four hours. He was sick of it! There was too much stress already, he couldn't deal with annoying GHOSTS!

Light crackled up in a hoop, and Danny dove through it, flying up for a moment before slamming straight down through the floor.

Layers of wood, metal, insulation and wiring passed before his eyes as he streaked down into the basement lab. A hulking figure was gliding toward the portal before Danny charged right into it's side.

"Skulker!" He growled, fisting the black muscle shirt and letting his other hand glow threateningly. He could feel electric green blazing out of his irises.

"What do you think you're doing." He slammed him back into the wall for emphasis, a little surprised rockets hadn't already been pulled out. Large metal hands raised up and his electric ball flared brighter.

"Peace, ghost child."

Danny clenched his hand around the crackling energy, ready to slam it forward at a moment's notice. This was a little odd, but perhaps they'd grown trickier. Still, the metal face looked rather annoyed and distracted, rather than determined and enraged like it normally did. He kept the blast powered, but stepped back and allowed Skulker to float alone.

Silver hands smoothed the ruffled fabric, brushing dust off the singular pauldron.

"There is a truce standing, for now." Green eyes looked down at him, disdainful. "Though I suppose it's hard for you to hear about such things, refusing to come to the Ghost Zone as you do."

The hunter looked like he was being honest...Then again, there was always a possibility…

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"Why else would we be steering clear of the human world for so many days? There is a danger upon us, bigger than any single ghost could handle." Skulker folded his arms as Danny dispelled the energy curling around his fingers.

"You're invited, as is every ghost, to attend the Council meeting tomorrow. We are to discuss the beings that destroyed the other halfa's portal, and the danger they pose."

Skulker moved toward the portal again, and Danny quickly swooped in front of him.

"What do you mean, beings? They weren't ghosts?"

Emerald eyes narrowed at him.

"What would** you** know about this, Ghost Child."

Danny scowled. He was getting sick of being referred to as a child. However, this was food for thought. The things in the lab earlier were not ghosts? That was...actually alarming. What else was out there?

"There were two...beings, I guess, in front of this portal two days ago."

"What did they look like?" His tone of voice was a bit disconcerting. Worried?

"People? Sorta. They looked like people, but could teleport, carried swords and one of them seemed to have wings, sometimes."

Skulker hissed something angrily, under his breath. Large hands clamped down on Danny's shoulders, bringing him closer to the metal face.

"Can you remember anything else about them? Did they say anything?" Danny's eyes were wide behind white hair, startled.

"Um… They're having a hard time destroying this portal? It's harder to destabilize?" He took a breath when he was released, flying back a bit to prevent that from happening again.

"Thank you for your insight. We'll post guards to make sure they don't-"

"WHAT! Wait, no, what are you talking about? You can't put ghosts in the lab! My parents would definitely find out, and go gun-crazy. Besides, there's no way I can trust you to stick to the portal and not run off to terrorize the city!"

"We've made it this long, haven't we?"

The sharp growl gave him pause.

"What...do you mean?"

"Some of us have been sneaking through to put up sigils that are meant to drive those beings away. Someone has been invalidating them almost as fast as we can put them up. We're at a truce, Ghost Child. We of the Ghost Zone have more at stake than a territory dispute. The portal must be defended."

Danny lifted his hand, wanting to protest. After a beat, he let it fall again. If Skulker was telling the truth, then he really didn't have much to worry about from the Ghost Zone. It was the other things that were the danger at this point, having destroyed…

"Vlad."

Skulker tilted his head in question. Danny couldn't help but stare at the floor, the question feeling bitter and heavy in his mouth. He didn't know if he even wanted to know the answer.

"Is he...Is Vlad still alive?"

The hunter's voice was grave when he responded.

"No. Nor has he become a full ghost to my knowledge."

Ah…

"We will post guards, to ensure the beings do not return to finish what they started. Tehcnus already disabled many of the detection devices in this room, so they should be safe for a while. The meeting is tomorrow. Watch your back, Ghost Child."

With that, Skulker flew into the swirling portal, the blast doors snapping closed behind him.

Danny exhaled slowly, feeling heavy.

He flew upward, back into his room and letting his ghost half phase away. So. Vlad really was gone. A sudden explosion, then nothing. It was so much like a reversal of that alternate timeline that he took a moment to assess his own feelings about humanity. Was that the road this was taking?

Thankfully, he still felt as human as he ever had with ectoplasm humming in his veins. Beyond the cold sadness curling up under his ribcage, there was no desperation or depression gnawing at his bones. No desire to rip out his humanity by force.

He fell onto the bed, afternoon sun leaving spots in his eyes as it peeked in through the window. Sensitive ears picked up soft footsteps, and he turned to see the door swing open under his mother's palm.

"Hey there."

She hovered in the doorway, looking tired.

"Hullo."

"About the papers you brought down...We can talk about it in the morning, okay? I'm sorry for blowing up at you."

Danny turned his head to look at her fully, nodding.

"Still mad at me?"

He didn't have to try very hard to summon a small smile.

"Nah, not angry." He had far too much on his plate to stay angry. He needed action, needed to make plans. He felt the need to take action thrumming under his bones, frustration fizzling at his constant on-the-spot reactions.

She nodded and stepped back out, closing the door behind her with a quiet 'click.'

He pushed himself back up off the bed, resuming his tight pacing. He needed to get his thoughts under control.

Skulker wanted him in the Ghost Zone, for whatever meeting was going on. It was pretty significant, if there was an entire truce involved.

The Winchesters have his phone - possibly information linking him to ghosts, and thus making him a target. If he went to the Ghost Zone, they'd have a golden opportunity to snag his mom and...do whatever they did.

Danny clenched his fists, pausing in his quick steps. That was unacceptable. He could not allow his mother to fall victim like that. Granted, she had impressive martial arts and weapons ability, but they had taken out FBI agents, and armed guards.

If he could just duplicate, that would solve a lot of his problems, but this tight, coiling stress made it damn near impossible. He needed to be calm, to concentrate, and his mind just wasn't cooperating!

Danny thought back to the Ghost Catcher, but dismissed it. It was too unreliable, and both protectors needed to be able to use powers. One to fly, the other to defend.  
A rumble caught his attention, and he bounced over to the window.

Shiny black approaching the curb.

They were here.

* * *

He easily found a shadowed spot at the top of the stairs, Invisible as he gazed down between the hand-rail's spokes at the people below. His mother addressed them by name - Sam and Dean.

He noticed she had gotten rid of the packet he had thrown to the floor. Probably smart - didn't want them suspecting anything.

Danny focused hard on their conversations, trying desperately not to get caught up in his own thoughts and miss a moment. He had his powers hovering just below the skin, ready at any moment to zip forward and slam up some shields.

They were...talking. Just chatting up a storm, about ghosts and weapons to use against them. Maddie seemed pretty comfortable around them. She showed her back, talking as she fetched soda and pretzels from the kitchen. Dean turned the cup down, but happily munched on the snacks. Sam seemed distracted.

They just talked about ghosts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, for his family, anyway. Power levels, abilities, types of ghosts. He noticed that a few powers weren't mentioned, though he KNEW they knew about it. Possession being the main one. That was usually on the list right up there with 'Invisibility'. Why hadn't his mom mentioned it?

And then there was Maddie's carefree way of speaking. It was almost like she didn't consider ghosts a threat, which was definitely a change from how she normally lectured him about ghost safety and the importance of curfews.

Nearly an hour passed, and the most interesting event was when Sam strode off to the bathroom. He actually had to duck slightly to get through one of the doorways, like Dad did.

Still, there was no mention of his phone, or the texts therein.

The three exchanged some papers, Maddie handed them each an ecto-deflector and they were on their way. Danny breathed a sigh of relief, sagging back against the wall and phasing back into sight as the car's engine faded away.

He startled a moment later when he turned to see that his mom was at the base of the stairs, looking up at him with something like resignation. Danny waved.

She sighed, beckoning him down the stairs.

Somehow Danny ended up on the couch, a pillow clutched to his chest once again. His mom had her wine, probably the same glass as before, it wasn't even a quarter full.

She sat down on the couch across from him, swirling the crimson liquid and watching it flow. She looked about as reluctant to start this conversation as he felt annoyed she hadn't started yet.

"I had...hoped...that you would leave it alone." She waved her free hand abstractly. "This whole investigation thing on the boys. I see now, that's not the case."

Danny gripped the pillow, nodding. He wouldn't back down. She sipped her wine, exhaling slowly.

"Those two are hunters. There's more to this world than we've led you to believe."


End file.
